


Empty Arms

by SeeTheVision



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Soulmates but with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheVision/pseuds/SeeTheVision
Summary: The firelight illuminated his arms in flickering orange light. Renjun had his phone out, counting down the seconds to the moment when Donghyuck’s life would change– no, the moment his life would start.And yet…The skin of his arms remained blank.(Everyone receives their soulmark– their soulmate's first words to them– on their 18th birthday. Everyone except Donghyuck)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 62
Kudos: 1028





	Empty Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night and then barely edited it. This is my first time writing a soulmate au and I I don't know if it's any good but here it is!

Donghyuck hates his arms. No matter the weather, even when the summer heat and humidity of Seoul threatens to make him pass out, he keeps his sleeves tugged down to his wrists, even as they soak through with sweat. 

He hasn’t always been this way. Once, Donghyuck, like any proper island boy on Jeju, had reveled in letting the sun caress his bare skin as he ran along the beach or waded into the ocean. His arms had been tanned then, matching the golden sand beneath his feet.

Donghyuck doesn’t go to the beach anymore, not since he turned eighteen. He and his friends spent the day before his birthday at the seashore, drinking in the June sunlight, dunking each other in the sea, and burying each other in sand. The sun had set on a barely started bonfire and a chorus of “Happy Birthday” sung so enthusiastically out of tune that even the seagulls that had crowded around, hoping to snatch some unattended scraps of birthday cake, were scared away.

And then, they had waited. Rounds of games by the fire passed like the hands of a clock, around and around. As midnight approached, the nervous energy in Donghyuck expanded, anticipation flooding him like buzzing fireflies. 

He knew what to expect; he had been there on Renjun’s birthday, as well as Jeno’s one month later, watching as black ink traced inself along the skin of their forearms. _Sorry, didn’t see you there. Must be because you’re so tiny,_ Renjun read incredulously, turning wide eyes to Jeno, who looked as though he was mentally beating himself up for his lame comeback to Renjun’s first insult, which, to no one’s surprise, appeared on Jeno’s skin one month later: _Watch it, acorn head._

Donghyuck wondered what his words would be. Something funny like Jeno and Renjun? Or something romantic like the _I’ve finally found you_ that curled around the wrist of his brother, Johnny. Perhaps even something mundane like _Excuse me, do you know what time it is?_

The firelight illuminated his arms in flickering orange light. Renjun had his phone out, counting down the seconds to the moment when Donghyuck’s life would change– no, the moment his life would _start._

And yet…

The skin of his arms remained blank.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment, Renjun’s phone screen showing 12:00 AM. The firelight danced tantalizingly along the length of Donghyuck’s arm, as though searching for something to reveal. Donghyuck could feel every gaze on him, every breath held.

12:01.

There was nothing to see.

***

Donghyuck’s alarm rings shrilly, and he groans, reluctantly prying open his eyes. Mouth dry, head pounding, and thighs suffocating in his skinny jeans from last night. Going out drinking when he had a nine o’clock lecture the next morning certainly wasn’t one of Donghyuck’s brightest ideas, but he can’t bring himself to care. It's hard to care about anything these days. He’d come to university in Seoul one year ago, only two months after he turned eighteen, to escape the pitying glances that followed him everywhere back home. All of Jeju island knew the story of poor little Lee Donghyuck, the boy without a soulmate. Here in Seoul, he may get odd looks for his unseasonal clothing choices, but at least no one knows what lies beneath the sleeves. Or, rather, the lack of what should be there.

Not bothering to remove his jeans(they're practically molded to his legs after sleeping in then, and he really can't be bothered), Donghyuck roots around on the floor for a somewhat-clean sweatshirt and tugs it over his head. He brushes his teeth to rid his mouth of the sour taste of alcohol, washes the traces of last night’s makeup from his skin, and tugs his fingers through his tangled hair. He doesn’t bother to examine the finished result in the mirror; Donghyuck’s day-to-day appearance means little to him nowadays. After all, it’s not like he has anyone to impress.

***

That odd boy is at the library again. Donghyuck’s eyes linger for a moment longer than he usually allows. The boy looks good today, black hair messily pushed off his forehead, round glasses perched on his nose, a red t-shirt contrasting well with his fair skin. They’ve never spoken, but sometimes their eyes meet and they share a fleeting smile. More than once, Donghyuck has been tempted to approach the boy, but something holds him back. 

The boy lifts his arm to run his fingers through his hair. Though Donghyuck is too far away to read what it says, the black writing is plainly visible.

This boy, like every other person on the planet, is forbidden to Donghyuck. Meant for someone else.

Donghyuck turns away and settles down with his laptop at his usual table, his back to the boy.

***

Donghyuck catches glimpses of the Library Boy around campus. He doesn't mean to, but his eyes automatically search for him in every crowd. Once, Donghyuck overhears a very tall boy call out down the hallway, "Mark! Wait up!" Library Boy turns and grins at his tall friend.

 _Mark._ It's a nice name

The chilling fall weather is a relief to Donghyuck. The sun still beats down in the afternoon, but the campus is flooded with students in sweatshirts and hoodies just like Donghyuck. 

Library Boy– Mark– looks nice in turtlenecks. They flatter his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. Not that it matters. 

***

"I'm worried about you," Jaemin says over the phone. "You haven't come home in over a year."

"I've been busy," Donghyuck lies.

"You've been hiding," Jaemin corrects. When Donghyuck doesn't respond, he sighs. 

"The world is still out there, Donghyuck," says Jaemin. "The whole universe."

Donghyuck isn't interested in the universe. It's a cruel, empty place. It doesn't have what Donghyuck is searching for.

***

Music is Donghyuck's escape. He sings. He takes all the hurt and bitterness and ugliness inside himself and makes it beautiful. A small bar near campus does open mike night once a week, and it's like therapy, except instead of a psychologist, it's just a few tipsy people who sway to the beat.

As Donghyuck observes the bar occupants over his microphone, his heart catches in his throat, almost strangling his song.

Library Boy, Mark, is in the crowd, staring intently at Donghyuck. When Donghyuck catches his eye, the boy's mouth quirks into a smile. Donghyuck looks away. It's harder to sing the sad ballad with the memory of that smile etched into his mind.

Donghyuck leaves the stage to scattered applause, a girl with a guitar taking his place. Against his will, Donghyuck's gaze finds the boy. The boy is looking back, although Donghyuck is no longer in the spotlight. He lifts a hand in a hesitant wave.

Donghyuck waves back awkwardly, then jerks his head toward the door. He doesn't look back to see if the boy is following him until the cool autumn air hits his face. He isn't sure what he's doing, but now he's alone with Mark, who did in fact follow him. 

"You're the boy from the library, right?" Donghyuck says, just for something to say. 

Mark's eyes grow round, his lips part in shock– but he doesn't speak. Instead, his hands flutter, forming shapes faster than Donghyuck can follow. _Sign language,_ Donghyuck realizes.

"Sorry, I'm not very good with sign," Donghyuck says, then wonders if the boy can hear what he's saying. "Are you…"

Library Boy shakes his head, makes a thumbs up gesture toward his ears, then points to his throat. 

"You… can't speak?"

Mark nods, begins to sign something, but gives up. His left hand goes to the hem of his right sleeve and tugs the fabric away to show the writing on his skin:

_You're the boy from the library, right?_

The air in Donghyuck's lungs seems to solidify, choking him as he tries to speak. "What–" he clutches at his own arms, where no words ever appeared. "But I don't– Oh. _Oh."_

Mark tugs his phone out of his pocket and types rapidly before flipping the screen to face Donghyuck.

_I'm Mark. I've been waiting for you._

"Donghyuck," the other introduces himself, still half convinced this some dream his subconscious cooked up, only to cruelly be ripped away by daylight. "Does our university offer sign language classes?"

Mark's apprehensive expression softens into a grin, lighting up his face in a way that makes him seem almost childlike– alight with innocent wonder. His face conveys everything he can't put into words. 

Donghyuck allows Mark to take his hands, but holds his breath as Mark pushes back Donghyuck's sleeves. He shivers as Mark delicately trails his fingertips along the bare skin from wrist to elbow.

When Mark looks up, Donghyuck sees his own emotions reflecting in the other boy's eyes. He can almost see the gears in Mark's mind turning as he processes what Donghyuck must have been through– all the fear, loneliness, heartbreak, and hopelessness of believing that fate had abandoned him. An apology is written in the lines of Mark's face, more clearly than words.

"It's not your fault," Donghyuck says softly, bringing one trembling hand up to ghost along Mark's cheek. "You– you're here. I can't believe–" he's crying now, the walls he built up since his eighteenth birthday crumbling down. "You're real, right? This isn't some dream?"

Mark's eyes sparkle with tears as he spreads his arms wide in a clear invitation to see for himself.

The arms that wrap around Donghyuck are warm and solid, the pulse that beats against his cheek as he tucks his face into the crook of Mark's neck is steady and strong. He's real. _He's real._

Donghyuck clutches at the back of Mark's shirt, holding him as close as possible. 

His arms may be bare, but they're no longer empty.

***

Mark keeps a pen in their bedside table drawer. Every morning without fail, he scrawls _I love you_ onto the golden skin of Donghyuck’s arm, sealing it with a kiss pressed to the inside of Donghyuck’s wrist. Maybe one day he'll get it permanently inked into his skin, or maybe he won't. It hardly seems to matter now.

Donghyuck loves his arms.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Mark's soulmark is the reason he spent so much time at the library
> 
> Come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/riahsvision/)  
> (i do art too!)


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